Dean's Grace
by wbinfinity
Summary: This is an alternate future for the current time show. An entire Destiel, but not Destiel fluff one-shot. Dean makes Cas promise not to use his grace but is soon left with no other choice, having to pick between himself and Dean. Unexpected ending.


**A/N: This story is dedicated to Carolyn Caron. Carolyn, I was going to draw you a beautiful fanart, incorporating all of your favorite things, but I can't draw for shit, so in stead, here is a Destiel one-shot written just for you(sorry if this sucks). I hope you enjoy.**

**And now, for anyone reading this, please for me the honor of following Carolyn on:**

**Tumblr: skylakagetis-trioditis**

**Twitter: ** Skylakagetis

**YouTube: **RolLyn

**Deviant Art: **From-Death-I-Rise

Yes I stalked you to dig up social media and figure out if you like Destiel: **HAPPY SUPERNATURAL CHRISTMAS**

Dean's Grace

Castiel sat looking around the bunker waiting for Dean and Sam to return from the hunt they went on to find a Vamp nest. It was pretty lonely if Castiel was honest with himself. He was in a giant hidden base in the middle of Lebanon, Kansas, where no one would find him unless they knew where it was. It used to be owned by and elite group, The Men of Letters, who contained all the secrets of monsters, demons, and everything in between, which Sam and Dean Winchester were heir too, so there was plenty to do, but Castiel was still lonesome. He raised and made his way around the long oak table and headed to the bathroom down the hall. The yellow glow of the lights made him look ill as he looked in the mirror. He tested to see if _it_ was visible on his features yet. His bright blue eyes seemed to have dulled and his unkempt black hair was flat and had lost its sheen, but otherwise he looked good, considering.

"Hey Cas!" He heard Dean's shout and made his way back to the main room. He could hear Dean and Sam's laughter from the hall and he hated that he was about to ruin it. As he reentered the room, Dean turned to look at him, his smile fading as he saw the vexed look on Castiel's face. "Hey man, you okay?"

"I need to talk to both of you," Castiel's deep voice requested on a flat tone. Sam dropped the duffel and stood by the table, Dean sinking into the chair beside him. Castiel walked and stood on the opposite of them. "Do you both remember a few months back, right before we cured the demon you," he said towards Dean, "and when you, Sam, asked me to come help? And both you were aware that I had a stolen grace that would eventually burn out."

"Yeah Cas, but what does that have to do with anything? I mean you look great for an Angel's whose grace is burning out." Sam shifted and crossed his arms, plastering a fake half smile that clearly wasn't working. He gazed down at Dean for a second, who straightened and looked confused and worriedly at Castiel. Cas tried to look as impassive as he could, refusing to look at either of them. He shifted under Dean's gaze, not knowing what to do in a normal situation, let alone this one.

"Before I got to the bunker that day, it was bad, I wasn't going to make it much longer, and I was fine with that. I was hoping to just get to help you first," Cas swallowed the lump in his throat and continued, "However, I ran into some trouble with another angel on the way here, and Crowley showed up, saving me, slitting that Angel's throat and giving me her grace, that is why I, as you put it 'look great,' but this grace will burn out soon. This is why I have rarely used my abilities, to conserve it." Cas finished and waited for a response but there was only silence.

"Why wouldn't you tell us Cas? We could have done something, tracked down your real grace," Dean murmured, voice barely above a whisper. He sat with his elbows on his knees pressing his palms into his green eyes.

"Dean, there really was no point," Cas replied waiting a moment.

"I don't believe that, Cas. We have been in tougher spots than this and been fine. Hell, it ain't ideal, but there is something we could have pulled out of our ass to help you. If you had just trusted us and let us help you,"

"Dean's right Cas. We could have found some way around it, even if it came down to it, as much as I hate the idea, would have talked to Metatron, if it meant helping you." Sam was running his hand through his hair, clearly unnerved by the idea, but even more so by the thought of losing Cas.

"If I thought there was something either of you could do, I would have told you. I never, however, would have let you near Metatron. I trust you both, but this is the inevitable." He watched as Dean rose and walked around the table to him placing his hand on Cas' shoulder looking him dead in the face.

"If you want to believe that bullshit, fine, but I'm not, we're not gonna not try. However, in the meantime, promise me something, if we go on a hunt or something and things go south, promise me you won't try and save us, just get the hell out and save your strength."

"Dean you know I can't do that, it's my job to watch over you and Sam, you're my frie-,"

"Promise me, Cas. I know were friends, but we can take care of ourselves, Sammy and I have been doin' it for years." Dean gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, staring into his blues eyes. "Now promise me!" Dean pleaded

"Fine." Cas complied. He wished he didn't because he hates having to break his promises to Dean. He knew if the time came, he couldn't leave them. They are his family.

He watched as Dean patted his arm and turned to walk away. "Sam, I'm gonna make a sandwich, you want anything?" Sam shook his head and turned further down the table to get to his laptop in silence. Dean made his way to the kitchen and began taking the ingredients out. Cas watched, still standing in the same spot, as Sam worked on his laptop, and Dean fried some bacon for a BLT. He suddenly felt the pull. It was faint at first, but soon the pressure built and he felt himself dragged away from the bunker. The calming image of Dean was ripped away and replaced with darkness.

"Sam, where did Cas go?" Dean reentered with his edible masterpiece, finally noticing that Cas was gone.

"I-I don't know, he was just there," Sam now looking up wildly from the screen.

"Cas… Cas, buddy, where'd you go?...CAS" Dean started screaming through the bunker, all his concern and playing in his voice and on his features.

-o0o-

Cas looked around, trying to identify his surroundings, but failing. He had never been here before and he had no idea what was happening. "Dean?"

"Sorry, Wings, Dean isn't available right now." Cas recognized the voice before he even turned to see his face.

"Crowley, what do you think you're doing?"

"Well considering that little favor I did for you, I think I'm entitled to ask a little from you." Crowley sat on an old chair, legs crossed, swirling his drink.

"Favor? I didn't ask for your help, nor did I want it. You killed and angel who-"

"Who, was going to kill you. I saved you Castiel. I know, hard to believe it wasn't your knight in shining leather."

"Leave Dean out of this." Castiel glared hard at Crowley, locking his eyes. He refused to look away and study his surroundings in what he assumed was some old abandoned warehouse. He knew from when he first looked tried to refocus on where he was that there were at least two demons behind and one standing beside Crowley.

"Well that defeats the point of this meeting. What I want in return for saving you, is Dean."

"If you ever think I would give you Dean, or that Dean would willingly go with you, you are mistaken.

"It's not like I want the everyday squirrel, I want the Knight of Hell. I became…attached to him and I find myself missing his company." Crowley looked into his glass, still swirling it.

"He isn't a demon anymore nor is he ever going to be one again."

"He still has the mark, doesn't he, so there is a chance."

"You will never get near him," Cas stated to walk towards him and he felt his angel blade slide into his grip.

"Well I must say, that is a shame. I guess we'll have to resort to option two. Boys if you please," Crowley waved his fingers and the three demons started towards Cas. Cas managed to put the blade through the neck of one demon and pull it out just as the two behind him grabbed his arms. He pulled one free and struck the demon in the abdomen. The last demon started throwing punches to Castiel's face, the broad hands of his victim leaving bruising and bloodied marks. Cas received a kick to the gut and lost his grip on the blade, still impaled in the second demon.

Cas had a few options, let himself be beaten until he gets a shot at the blade or a chance to turn the beatings on the demon, or he could burn his grace. He didn't want to, but he didn't see getting a hit in or any shot of getting out. As the demon pulled back another punch, Cas reached and put his palm to the forehead of the demon. The light streamed from the mouth and eyes of the demon, burning him out and eradicating the remnants of the demon. The empty vessel fell to the ground, he stepped over the body and retrieved the blade from the other corpse. He wobbled as he walked, ready to collapse.

"What's a matter wings? You seem a little dizzy." Cas didn't stay to listen to the rest; instead, he got himself to the bunker, only to hit the floor upon arriving.

"Shit, Cas." Dean was up from his chair and down at Cas's side trying to help him up in a matter of seconds, "Sam! Get out here!" Dean yelled through the bunker. He put Cas's arm around his shoulder hauling both of them up, trying to steady them both before Sam appeared at their side offering assistance.

"What the hell happened" Sam asked as the half carried half dragged Cas to the couch.

"I have no fucking idea, but if I had to guess, I'd say Crowley" Dean growled.

"I'm sorry Dean, I didn't have a choice," Cas choked out as he coughed on the blood filling his mouth, causing him to double over once they got him to the couch.

"Hey, hey, hey, just take it easy Cas. I'm happy you're okay; you just gotta rest a little. "Dean hushed Cas as he pushed him back to lie on the couch.

"No Dean, I used my grace, a good amount."

"Fuck" Dean cursed under his breath. "It's fine Cas, we'll figure it out later. Sammy, can you go get some bandages?"

"Sure, I'll be right back." Sam rushed out of the room trying to be as quick as he possibly could.

Cas sat up, beginning to regain some of his strength. He was still in pain and slightly dizzy but it is better than it was ten minutes prior. He and Dean sat there waiting for Sam to return. Cas could slowly feel his strength returning as Dean checked Cas over, taking note of what wounds he had sustained.

"Dean, where did Sam go?" Dean looked up confusion falling over he features as he scanned the room for his brother. Just now realizing it had been almost fifteen minutes since he left.

"Sammy! What's takin so long?" he shouted, scanning the room, expecting Sam's voice to ring from the kitchen but jumped when heard someone else's entirely.

"I put Moose in an alternate location, I wanted some alone time, and if threes a crowd I figured four was just overdoing it." Crowley sneered as both Cas and Dean turned around to face him. They could hear Sam's faint yelling and banging on the door from the far end of the North hall. Crowley stood there, back straight, swirling his scotch in its glass and flattening his tailored suit with his hand. He was a businessman and took pride in his work, always being professional.

"What are you doing here, Crowley?" Dean snapped. Castiel stood, thanks to the adrenalin now pumping through him, and watched as Dean took a step forward as if to shield him from Crowley. Dean was being overprotective, now that he knew the extent of the situation; he wasn't going to let Cas die. They have lost enough.

"Well Dean, I came for angel face." Crowley stated. "You see, I saved his life and since he refuses to repay that debt." His gaze landed on Cas.

"I never asked you to save me, and what you want, you are never going get," he retorted.

"Fine,' Crowley sneered, "if I can't make lemonade, maybe I'll just crush the lemons, I mean I prefer scotch anyway," he finished. Castiel just glared at Crowley, recalling his demands and forcing himself not to just grab Dean and get the hell out of there.

"What lemons are you referring to, this is about me refusing to help you," Cas questioned genuinely confused. Crowley just smirked and snapped his fingers and in a second, four demons were surrounding Cas while three more threw Dean across the room.

Cas swiftly pulled out his long, silver, pyramid shaped, angel blade and immediately stuck it into one of the demons that charged him. He turned and fatally wounded two more. But just as he pulled out the blade, the last demon and one of the ones who was attacking Dean, were on top of him, throwing the angel blade out of reach. Once again, he was slammed to the ground and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other two demons thrashing down on Dean's face, never getting a chance to recover. He saw one begin to pull out a knife and he knew what he had to do. He however hadn't realized that Crowley had summoned three more demons that were now attacking him. He dogged an attack and then placed his palms each on one demon's head. The white light shined blasted their eyes and mouths as the demons were fried, their vessels falling to the ground with their eyes burned out. He did three more times, and then as he made it to Dean he saw the knife stab into his abdomen. He slammed his hands on the two demons heads and tossed their bodies of Dean, who was now coughing up blood. He turned to Crowley, rage filling his eyes, "Leave NOW!" he demanded

"Gladly, you did exactly what was expected Castiel, so enjoy your life for the next week." He finished and then disappeared. Cas dropped to the floor, all the adrenaline leaving and he could feel the grace inside him was now faint. He tried to pull himself up on the table and make his way towards Dean, failing the first two attempts. He watched as Sam came running down the hall way, looking frantically around and then spotting Dean and Cas kneeling beside him.

"You promised Cas," Dean attempted to say but trailed off into a coughing fit.

"I know Dean, but it's too late now." Cas placed his hand on the side of Dean's face and felt the last of his grace leave him and heal Dean. He rose and stood before them.

"Cas, what did you d-," but before Dean could finish while looking over his body for any kind of injury, a blind light spread from Cas. Dean and Sam shielded their eyes, and when they looked up, there was no trace of Castiel left, except the wings that were burned across the entire wall of study.

The next few weeks were hell for Dean. He felt responsible for why Cas was dead. He should have been ready for those demons and taken care of them himself. . He repositioned the couch so it was facing the wings across the wall and slept there every night. He just drank and tried to find some way to bring him back. It wouldn't have been the first time, though. They have all died on numerous occasions, and yet they always came back. God, some higher power, Dean didn't know what, but they always brought them back. Sam tried to help him move on but that never worked. He had been tirelessly hunting down Crowley to no avail. The little sleep he did get was just dreamless or dreams plagued by guilt. He prayed to whatever would listen, haven't they lost enough already. He always hoped that one day he would wake and Cas would be there, waiting.

Dean woke up, it had been almost two months. He walked to the kitchen grabbed the scotch and then made his way to where his laptop and books lay sprawled out on the table. He didn't even notice.

"Dean…" Dean turned almost dropping the bottle as his eyes landed on Castiel, trench coat and all.

"Cas? You're back. How?" he stammered. He was so confused but so happy

"It's not like it's the first time." Cas's voice, the deep voice that Dean has missed so much, was filled with joy. He wasn't even surprised when Dean's arms were locked around his neck for the tightest hug Dean could manage.

Dean let his hug softened until Cas was just left with Dean's hand on his shoulder. He was squeezing almost painfully, like he was afraid something was going to take him away again. "I'm glad your back buddy."

-o0o-

The room was in disarray, books and papers spewed about. The man ran a hand through his curly unkempt hair and dragged it down to scratch his beard. He swiveled his chair away from the computer screen. His robe lay open as he slumped lower in his chair, swinging a scotch bottle between his fingers. Even if he was God, he wasn't going to change his lifestyle to be more fitting of the biblical stereotype.

Chuck rolled his eyes and took a swig of his scotch, "one would think, by the seventh freakin' time, that they would just get their shit together and fuckin kiss already."


End file.
